


Tabula Rasa

by ereshai



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Relationship, Suicide, Zombies, genre typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on my own prompt for Zombie Fest 2014: Hydra agents within SHIELD stole every scrap of information on Project: Rebirth they could find, but instead of super soldiers, they're creating an unstoppable army of the dead. If they can't rule the world as it is, they'll wipe it clean and start from scratch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What are we looking at?” Phil stood next to Skye, watching the shaky video on the viewscreen.

“Apparently, it’s footage from a HYDRA experiment, code name _Tabula Rasa_.”

“That isn’t ominous at all.”

Screams and shouts came from the speakers as several people ran past the camera and out of frame. The angle was odd, as if the camera was being held low and aimed straight ahead instead of being tilted up to film their faces. There was a time-stamp in one corner, dated two days earlier. Phil recognized the formatting.

“This is from a standard issue SHIELD spy-cam.” That explained the odd angle. The camera was probably disguised as a button on somebody’s shirt or pants. “Who sent it?” More people appeared on screen, going in the same direction as the previous group, but moving much more slowly and quietly. Some of them had visible injuries, and all of them were covered in blood; it was all over their clothes, and more disturbingly, their mouths.

“Encrypted source. They sent it through old SHIELD channels. ” The camera panned the room in one dizzying motion, followed by a series of jerky movements that blurred the image on the screen.

“Who was it sent to?” Phil tried to make sense of the snatches of images on the screen, but everything was jumbled. Whoever was wearing the camera was moving fast, their panting breaths audible even with the poor sound quality.

“Dir – former Director Fury, Agent Romanoff. And you.”

“What?” He looked away from the screen to stare at Skye. Whoever had sent the video obviously didn’t know what had happened to SHIELD, not if they were using compromised channels to contact anyone. That also meant they wouldn’t be sending anything to him, encrypted or otherwise; anyone in that situation would believe he was dead. “Can you track the source?”

“Sure, but should we bother? Don’t we have bigger things to worry about?”

The audio cut off, followed by a staticky hum. Then came a voice Phil knew very well. He whipped his head back around. Clint Barton’s face filled the screen, a dim red light throwing strange shadows across it.

“ _Okay, Fury, I hope you get this sooner rather than later._ Tabula Rasa _threat assessment alpha fucking red. You need to turn this place into a smoking crater, ASAP. You have the coordinates. Whatever HYDRA did with the formula, they didn’t get super soldiers. Not even close. And whatever they did, it’s contagious. The place is locked down – I never thought I’d be grateful for HYDRA’s over-the-top security measures – but if even one of these things gets out- Fuck. There are a few survivors, but…_ ” He shook his head. “ _It’s been an honor serving with you, sir_.”

Phil went cold. Judging by Barton’s last words, he didn’t expect to get out alive. Clint Barton didn’t just give up. Whatever was going on, it was bad.

“I think we just found something worse. Trace it. We need to know where it came from, preferably yesterday.”

“Sure, I’ll just wind up my Time-Turner.” At Phil’s grim look, she added, “Okay, okay. I’m on it.”

Phil thrummed with nervous energy, ready to leap into action, but he settled for alerting May to the situation. There was no question of leaving Barton where he was. Phil never left his people behind, not if he had a choice, and Clint was hi- SHIELD’s, or what was left of it. On a more personal level, he couldn’t abandon Clint, not again. _I hope it’s not too late._ A lot could happen in two days.

**

It amazed Clint that he was still alive. Not only because of the zombies roaming the facility – he didn’t know if they were actually the walking dead, but they acted like zombies, and that was good enough for him – but because he’d expected the whole place to be turned into a pile of melted rock by now. Fury wasn’t usually one to second-guess hard decisions. Unless he needed more to go on than Clint’s word; Clint hadn’t been able to send the footage of the really bad stuff. He was going to have to risk HYDRA intercepting the transmission; it would provide the perfect push, if Fury needed one. Every day that went by without the total destruction of the facility was another day that HYDRA could show up and release their twisted little science experiment into the world.

He had a backup plan, though it was just as risky as trying to access the SHIELD network using HYDRA’s equipment again. It would guarantee the destruction of the facility, so even if HYDRA did show up before Fury acted, they’d find only rubble. That would buy enough time for SHIELD to finish what Clint had started, and there was no way Fury wouldn’t do something once he saw what Clint had to show him. Win-win, except for the part where he died. That part sucked.

Clint wired the explosives to the detonator, and placed them carefully at the base of a pillar. He didn’t want them to go off until he had everything in place. The remote detonators had been a lucky find; he didn’t have to screw around with timers. He had enough explosives to bring the whole thing down, as long as he placed them correctly. Only one of the spots he had chosen was likely to cause trouble; he had saved it for last, so he could set off the rest of the charges if the zombies cornered him.

He wasn’t surprised when he reached the last spot and found it crawling with zombies. And, of course, there was no cover anywhere near where he had to place the explosives. Putting them somewhere else wouldn’t be nearly as effective, and if he was going to die, he wanted it to be worth it.

“How is this my life?” Clint muttered. He wished, again, for his bow; he was sure he could have found a way to sneak it in. Using his pistol would draw more zombies to the area; he’d learned that the hard way, and only a handy vent had saved him that time. That wasn’t an option here; all of the vents were in the ceiling, which was way too high. Like he’d need to stand on somebody who was standing on somebody just to get within arm’s reach high.

He did have another option, though. He couldn’t quite see from his vantage point, but there should be a vent right near the support pillar he wanted to blow up. All he needed was enough rope and some duct tape. Time for some _Mission: Impossible_ style shenanigans.

**

“AC, I mean, DC – wow, that does not work for me – Coulson. I picked up another transmission from your mystery man,” Skye said as she walked into Coulson’s office, where he, May and Triplett were waiting for her.

May raised her brow at Phil. “Barton, mysterious? He’ll get a kick out of that.”

Phil ignored her. “What do you have?”

“Okay, so _Barton_ sent another video. I only watched the first minute or so, but…it’s bad.” Skye handed Phil a data drive, and he inserted it into a slot in his desk.

An image flickered on the wall behind him. “First-gen interface. Before we developed the holotables,” he said at Skye’s questioning look. She opened her mouth to say something, but then the playback – and the screaming – began, and everyone fell silent. Phil turned to watch.

This time, the view of the scene was from above. The screaming had cut off abruptly. A voice was moaning ‘ _Help, help me_ ’ over and over, but it was slowly getting fainter. To one side, a group of people were kneeling around something on the floor. One of them, a woman, lifted her head when someone ran past, revealing a bloody chunk of flesh dangling from her mouth. She struggled to her feet, still chewing, and started to walk in the same direction the running person had taken.

Two more people ran by, and the bloody woman grabbed at them. They swerved to avoid her, and one of them, a woman in a lab coat, slipped in a pool of blood and fell to the ground. Her companion hesitated, then ran on.

The fallen woman scrambled to get back to her feet, her shoes slipping in the blood. The bloody woman approached her, not shambling or staggering, but slowly, as if she had all the time in the world.

“ _Get up, get up, get up_ ,” a voice – Clint’s – muttered. It was barely audible over the woman’s pleading.

“ _Eve, it’s Eve, right? Eve, you know me. It’s Dr. Kendall. You don’t want to hurt me. Please, Eve. I can help you_.”

The words had no visible effect on Eve. She opened her mouth wide, and the remnants of her grisly meal fell away. The sound that came from her throat was chilling; gargling moans that might have been an attempt at speech. The rest of the kneeling group began to stand, turning their attention to the fallen woman.

“ _Shit._ ” Clint again. The camera pulled back, leaving them with only a view of a grate. The grate was knocked out the way, and a hand holding a gun appeared in the frame. The camera moved forward again. Dr. Kendall was cowering against a wall as the group approached her. Then a series of shots rang out, and Eve and her cannibalistic companions crumpled to the floor, each with a hole in their head. “ _Run_ ,” Clint shouted. “ _The noise will attract more of them_.”

The scene ended, and then Clint’s face appeared on the screen again.

“ _Just in case you needed a kick in the ass, sir. This is what HYDRA wants to unleash on the world – zombies, basically. I’ve planted charges – enough to bury us – but that won’t do the job. HYDRA could still dig one of them out, and one is all they need. I don’t know why you’re hesitating.  We’re already dead_.” The camera veered away, then back again. “ _Oh, just in case HYDRA does manage to follow through – head shots are the only thing that stops them permanently. Just like in the movies_.” Clint smiled grimly, and the picture moved again, giving them a shot of Clint’s feet before the screen went black.

“This is not good.” The video started to play again, and Phil pulled the data drive out of its slot. They didn’t need to see it a second time. “We have to find this HYDRA base and make sure it’s completely destroyed. I’m making this our top priority.”

“It’s your lucky day, then,” Skye said. “Because I got a lock on Barton’s coordinates.”

Phil stood up and straightened his jacket. “Then let’s get ready. We have to do whatever it takes to keep this weapon out of HYDRA’s hands.”

“Is this a rescue mission, or damage control and clean up?” Triplett asked as he rose from his seat.

“Barton will have detonated the charges by now.” Phil was proud that his voice remained steady, despite the tightness in his chest. He continued, “We’re going to evaluate the site so I can arrange for something more permanent.”

“He got my message, though,” Skye said. Everyone turned to look at her.

“What?” Phil said, his voice sharp.

“I was gonna mention it. When Barton uploaded the vid, I contacted him. I told him we’d try to rescue him.”

Everyone was still. “And did he respond?” May finally asked.

“He sent back ‘Acknowledged. You owe me five bucks.’ Is that some sort of code?”

“It means he’s going to blow the place in five hours, whether we’re there or not,” Phil told her. “Do we have enough time to get there?”

“Yeah, it’s only a couple of hours’ worth of flying. Seriously, that _was_ a code?”

“More of an inside joke,” Phil said. “Skye, talk to Simmons. We’re going to need her on this.”

Skye nodded. “She’s not going to like leaving Fitz.”

“She doesn’t have to like it; she just has to do it.”

“Wow. Nice, Coulson,” Skye said, and then she strode out of the room.

“I’ll just get the gear ready,” Triplett said, looking between Phil and May. “Maybe talk to Simmons a little myself.”

“Thank you, Trip.” Coulson scrubbed a hand over his face as the other man left the room. May stayed in her chair. “Did you have something to add, Agent May?”

“We may not be able to get him out.”

“I know. But there’s a chance to save him. I- we have to take it.”

**

Hope was a dangerous thing. It made a guy take stupid chances, like trusting that the person promising him a rescue wasn’t really a HYDRA agent who had intercepted his message. Clint knew it hadn’t been Fury – he would have asked if extraction was possible, and then he would have followed Clint’s recommendation when Clint told him what a bad idea it would be. Regretfully, yes, but Fury was firmly of the ‘needs of the many’ point of view. Clint understood that; he was, too.

Which was why he was formulating a plan to move the nineteen survivors holed up in the cafeteria to another part of the facility. The cafeteria was centrally located, which made it convenient for dining purposes, not so much for escaping. Not when the whole place was underground. So, hurdle number one: the group was too large; going through the vents wouldn’t work. Even if their combined weight didn’t pull the whole thing down, they would make too much noise. No vents meant they wouldn’t have much cover for most of their trek through the facility; not everyone was going to make it. For all that he was willing to sacrifice himself, Clint didn’t want to die, not when there was a real chance of escape. It was tempting to abandon them, but he couldn’t do that, not even to HYDRA lackeys.

And that led him to hurdle number two. Clint was going to have to identify himself as a SHIELD agent. None of them would believe that HYDRA was sending someone to rescue them; they were all considered expendable, and they knew it. This was not going to be fun. Hopefully, they would choose SHIELD prison over certain death, but it was hard to predict with HYDRA types. They always seemed to fall in one of two categories – those who believed in the cause 100%, and those who were in it for more ambitious reasons. The die-hards would rather, well, die, preferably taking him with them. Maybe luck would be with him; those types also tended to make life-ending decisions in a crisis – they might have been weeded out already.

Clint kicked out one of the vents in the cafeteria’s ceiling; it clattered down onto an empty table, drawing surprised cries from a few of the survivors. A muffled pounding comes from the doors – he must’ve woken up the zombies out in the hallway. Not that they actually slept; that would’ve been too easy. He dropped into the room. A couple of the men had positioned themselves nearby, fists up and ready to fight.

“Hey,” he said.

“I _told_ you it wasn’t one of them. They don’t have the capacity for complicated tasks,” a woman snapped. Clint recognized the scientist he’d saved back at the beginning of this clusterfuck. He hadn’t known she’d survived.

Her words had no effect on the two would-be defenders, so Clint figured he’d just start talking.

“So, you guys wanna get out of here?” Maybe not the best opening statement; perceived insanity would not inspire trust. “I got a ride coming in a few hours, if you want to tag along.”

“Bullshit,” one of the men spat at him. Probably a lab tech; he wasn’t bulky enough to be part of security – HYDRA liked to stereotype by body type. That was why they’d put Clint on security – too much muscle to help in the labs, apparently.

“Surely it won’t be that easy,” the scientist said in disbelief.

“They’re not coming for us, Dr. Kendall,” the same man spoke up. “We all know how it works.”

Clint hopped down from the table, causing the man to step back, even though he was nowhere near him. “You’re right,” he said, “your superiors have left you for dead.”

Dr. Kendall picked up on the ‘your’ right away, but everyone else still looked confused. Nobody said anything.

“Confession time: I’m an agent of SHIELD. I’ve got an extraction team coming. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Motherfucking traitor. And what, they’ll just let us go afterwards?” The maybe lab tech had appointed himself spokesman, apparently.

“Well, no, you’ll go to jail. But you’ll be alive, so…” That caught everyone’s interest.

“And how do you propose to get us all out?” Dr. Kendall was sharp, because that was the biggest flaw in Clint’s plan.

“Well, I can’t actually guarantee we’ll all make it out alive. You can die here, or you can take your chances with me. Fair warning, this place is going to be a smoking hole in the ground in a few hours. There’s no way I’m letting a zombie apocalypse happen on my watch.”

“Why do you care what happens to us?” This from a woman huddled in a corner.

“He probably just wants bait to distract those things so he can get away,” Lab Tech piped up again.

“I would have a much better chance without all of you. You may be okay with leaving people to the mercy of _those things_ , but I’m not. I’m also not stupid enough to force anyone to come with me. We have to cooperate if this is going to work. You don’t trust me, and I sure as fuck don’t trust any of you, but I figure you want out of here as much as I do.” _Most of you, anyway_. “I’m done trying to convince you. If you’re coming with me, I’ll fill you in over here.”

Dr. Kendall was the first to join him. A handful of people stayed where they were, but the rest, including Lab Tech guy, surrounded him in a loose semi-circle. His hand drawn map of the facility got him some dirty looks, but what did they think he was there for? Clint’s plan was straight-forward; get to the top floor, try not to get killed. There were a few suggestions for alternate routes, but it wasn’t like they had a lot of options. The biggest problem would be leaving the cafeteria; there were zombies gathered at both sets of doors.

The attack was not unexpected. He’d seen how the members of the small group across the room had kept looking over at him and whispering to each other. So when one of the guys – not Lab Tech guy, that _was_ a surprise – who’d been lingering at the edge of _his_ group came at him with a butcher knife, Clint had him disarmed and unconscious within a matter of minutes. He debated killing the man – it would be kinder in the long run – but he didn’t want the group following him with a fresh image of him slitting an unarmed man’s throat stuck in their heads.

“Anyone else?” No one was meeting his gaze, and they didn’t seem inclined to attack, either.  “Last chance to join the rescue train.”

In the end, they left behind the unconscious man and two others who had chosen to stay. That left Clint with sixteen people at his back, none of them with much of a reason to keep him alive, and seven floors full of flesh-craving zombies between him and freedom. Fuck his life.

**

Phil had nothing to do during the flight to HYDRA’s lab hidden in the middle of nowhere. May was flying and he wasn’t sure of his welcome; plus, the little jolt of hurt he felt whenever he thought about what she’d done was lessening, but it was still there. Triplett was looking out a window; Phil thought he was still processing Garrett and Ward’s betrayal. Simmons was in the lab, monitoring Fitz’s condition remotely; Trip would probably join her eventually. Skye was…well, he wasn’t sure what Skye was doing, and he wasn’t going to worry about it.

He pulled up Clint’s file again, though there was nothing in it he hadn’t already memorized. Following a bare bones account of Barton’s actions leading up to and during the Battle of New York, there was a two-word notation, ‘Deep cover’, with no accompanying case file number. The entry was dated three months after the Battle; Phil didn’t know what to think of that. Had Fury had suspicions about HYDRA even then? Whatever the cause for such secrecy, that was a long time for Clint to be out in the cold.

He left his office to make the rounds of the Bus. The almost obsessive desire to keep track of his people had to be a side effect of HYDRA’s infiltration. Or maybe it had to do with becoming Director. Everyone was where he thought they’d be. He wasn’t inclined to talk to anyone, but when he checked on Skye, she stopped him before he could move on.

“Hey, AC. Got a minute?”

“So you’re sticking with that, huh?” Phil settled himself on a couch.

“What can I say, I like it.”

“You have a question?”

Skye closed her laptop. “How well do you know this Barton guy?”

“Excuse me?” That was not what he was expecting.

“It’s just…could this be a HYDRA trap? Get the new director of SHIELD out in the middle of nowhere and-“ Skye drew her finger across her throat and made a squelching noise.

“One, they’d have to know I’m the new director. I don’t think that’s gotten out yet. Two, I trust Barton with my life. More importantly, I’d trust him with the lives’ of this team. He isn’t HYDRA.”

“Great. Next question. How are we going to contact him when we get there? It’s not like he’s going to upload another vid so I can hijack the transmission. I doubt he’s anywhere near a computer. If the surveillance system is wireless, I can access it, but that’s about it.”

“Contacting Barton is probably the easiest part of this extraction.” Phil stood up. “If we can’t, we’ll improvise. He knows we’re coming.”

Before Skye could answer, May announced their arrival. Phil nodded at Skye, and went back to his office. He didn’t have much to prepare, but he needed a few minutes to himself. If everything went according to plan, he was going to see Clint again very soon. Hope and anxiety churned his stomach; he had no idea how Clint would react.

The Bus landed. They really were in the middle of nowhere. There were a few trees, but otherwise the only landmark was the concrete bunker in the distance. Everything was deceptively peaceful, and Phil found he was grateful for HYDRA’s security, too. If the affected people had managed to escape, they could have gone in any direction, making it that much harder to round them up. Phil, May, Triplett, and Skye drove out to the bunker; Simmons stayed behind to prepare for any survivors.

It didn’t take long to reach the bunker. The team exited the vehicle and studied the entrance. “What’s our next move, AC?”

“I’ll contact Barton. I have a feeling the front door isn’t an option.” The doorway was wide, big enough to drive a truck through, and they had no idea what was on the other side; they needed a more defensible entrance. Phil put a comm unit in his ear, and tapped it twice, paused, tapped it twice, then three times. If he was right, Clint had smuggled in a SHIELD comm unit as he usually did, in defiance of undercover protocols.

“ _You’ve reached Delta, Delta, and Delta. Delta speaking.”_ Phil couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face. It had been a long time since he’d heard Clint’s comm chatter.

“Please maintain a professional tone, Barton.”

“ _I think you want Delta for tha-Who the fuck is this?”_

“Barton. Clint. It’s Agent Coulson.”

“ _Bullshit_.” Clint’s voice was harsh

“Barton. Listen carefully.” Phil pulled away from the others, and lowered his voice. “There’s a picture on my desk, the one of you and Natasha, remember?”

“ _Anyone could know that._ ”

“Yes, but nobody would know what I cut out of that picture. Just you, me, and Natasha. Right?”

“ _Right. So what was cut out?_ ” Clint challenged him.

“We found that little bakery in Birmingham, and Natasha ordered a cake decorated like naked man, complete with a Twinkie for a penis, because it was your birthday. I took the picture right before you blew out the candles.”

“ _Shit, Coulson? How- Never mind. You’re my ride, huh?”_

“Yes. We’re right outside the front door. What do have for me?” Phil wandered back to the team.

**

“ _What do you have for me?_ ”

Clint was in shock. Coulson, Phil fucking Coulson, was alive. He tamped down the fierce elation he felt at that news.

“Don’t open that fucking door. You’ll undo all my hard work. You know, saving the world. Again.”

“ _I figured. What are our other options?_ ”

“There’s an exhaust vent, should be about twenty yards south of the doors. You’ll need to blow it for us to fit through.”

“ _Us?_ ”

“Bringing home some strays, boss.”

“ _Understood. I’ll let you know when we find the vent. Coulson out.”_

Clint looked at the group spread out through the small office. There were far fewer people than when they’d set out from the cafeteria; more than half of them had been killed along the way. Two of the group had bite injuries. They were being given a wide berth by everyone else; they had all witnessed first-hand what happened to someone with that type of wound. On the other hand, nobody was willing to force them to leave the safety of the room. One of the injured was Dr. Kendall. He didn’t flinch when she approached him; he’d have plenty of warning before the serum – infection – whatever – took effect and he had to deal with her.

“I want you to have this, Agent.” She was holding a data drive. He took it and shoved it in his pocket. “It’s everything I’ve been working on since I came here.”

“Oh. Um, thanks.”

“We both know I won’t be leaving.”

Clint nodded. He wasn’t much for comforting people, and she didn’t seem to be asking for it anyway.

”I didn’t sign on with HYDRA because of any ideology. I just wanted to pursue my research, and if I could do that, I didn’t care who was ruling the world. But this, this isn’t about being in control. It’s the end of the world. And I can’t be a part of that, not after what I’ve seen. So I won’t be putting up a fuss when the rest of you leave.”

“I appreciate that.” He was starting to get uncomfortable. She wasn’t crying, or emotional, but that would almost have been easier to take. He didn’t exactly like her – he barely knew her, and she was HYDRA, for fuck’s sake – but he didn’t want her dead, either.

“This whole thing really was an accident. It wasn’t even my main project.”

“Huh.” He felt like a priest hearing confession or something. If it made her feel better…

“We weren’t making much progress with the formula, so it was shelved. For the most part. I was still trying to perfect it. I do happen to know that certain parties were planning to use the current version as part of a final solution scenario.”

“Tabula Rasa.”

“Yes. If they can’t take over the world, they’ll start over. Clean slate, for all intents and purposes. Smaller populations are easier to track and control. And when those populations are primarily made up of HYDRA devotees…”

“But what about all the zombies that will be left over?” HYDRA liked to make big plans, but they always had huge flaws. Like fucking zombies roaming around their paradise.

“That’s part of what I was working on. They wanted the subjects controllable.”

“Well, that was an astounding success.” The words just slipped out. Probably not the time to say what he was thinking, though. Dr. Kendall stiffened. “Sorry.”

She moved away from him, confession time over. Clint was okay with that. He couldn’t give her absolution, just as nobody had been able to absolve him. Clint had had to work through his guilt for what he’d done under Loki’s control on his own. Amazing how being around people who chose to do evil things put his own forced actions in perspective. The hardest thing to forgive himself for had been Coulson’s death, but he’d done it. And now Coulson was alive. Clint wasn’t sure what that would mean, but maybe he could start letting go of some of that regret he’d been carrying around.

“ _Barton._ ” Coulson was in his ear again. “ _We’ve found the vent. You know more about the situation, so it’s your call. How do you want to play this?_ ”

“The noise from blowing the vent will draw whatever zombies are on this floor. There shouldn’t be too many, but one can do a lot of damage. I recommend full body armor. We’re in an office, four or five doors to the east, on the left. I’d appreciate a weapon. I’m out.”

“ _Not a problem. Any advice on identifying affected people? I don’t want to make a mistake if we run into any stray survivors._ ”

“You can call them zombies, Coulson, I won’t tell. Uh, they can’t talk, so that’s something. I guess if you’re not sure, shoot ‘em in the leg. If they keep coming at you, head shot.”

“ _Good to know. We have you on camera now. Does anyone need medical assistance?”_

Clint looked up at the security camera in the corner and waved. “Nothing that can’t wait ‘til we’re all cleared of contamination.” That caught the other injured person’s attention, an older man with a self-important air. He had been one of the site administrators; if he hadn’t been bitten, he would have been a valuable prisoner.

“What do you mean, cleared of contamination?” he demanded, stalking toward Clint.

“Gotta go, sir,” Clint said, and turned his attention to the man before him. “Like I said before, I’m not letting this shit leave the facility. Anyone who’s infected stays here.”

That didn’t go over well. “But I’m- That’s a death sentence. You can’t do that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I can, and I will.”

The man looked around the room, maybe for somebody to back him up. “What if it was you, huh? Would you just stay here to die?”

Clint shrugged. “I was ready to blow this place to hell hours ago, with me in it, and I definitely wasn’t infected then. I won’t be happy about it, but if it turns out I am now, I’m staying.”

“But I have important information.” There was a crafty look on the man’s face. “We’ll see what your superior has to say.”

“I guess we will.” Clint wasn’t too worried about it. Coulson always tried to save everybody he could, that was true, but he also didn’t hesitate to eliminate threats. That was why he was so good at his job. It was also one of the many reasons Clint lo- admired him. He’d back Clint up.

There was a muffled boom, followed by a crash; the room actually shook.

“That’s just our ride,” Clint told the group; everyone was looking a little freaked out. “We’ll wait here for them.”

That calmed them down, their fear replaced with anticipation. They were in the home stretch now; hopefully, no one would do anything stupid and get themselves or somebody else killed. Then they heard gunshots, and things got tense again.

There was a knock at the door – not the frantic pounding of someone looking for safety, and definitely not the mindless thumping of ravenous zombies looking for a meal. Still, Clint was cautious. Until he saw Coulson was alive with his own eyes, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of a HYDRA deception. He went to stand next to the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, pitching his voice high. That earned him a few strange looks. He had his gun in his hand; it was empty, but it could still be useful.

“Barton. Open the door.”

“May?” The last Clint had heard, Agent May was flying a desk. But a lot could change in two years. Who knew what else had been going on at SHIELD during his absence? He opened the door and May strode in, followed by an agent Clint didn’t recognize. They were both in full armor, as he had suggested. “Welcome,” he said, bowing slightly as he swept his arm out.

May rolled her eyes – a familiar sight. “Barton, Agent Triplett.” They nodded at each other. “We brought a kit for blood testing, but we need a sample for comparison. We couldn’t be sure the blood on the subjects we encountered was actually all theirs.”

“I can provide a sample,” Dr. Kendall volunteered. The administrator hissed at her to shut up, but she ignored him.

May looked at Clint, who nodded. “She’s infected.” May just stared at him, until he finally crossed his arms over his chest. “What? We still have a couple of hours before it’s a problem.”

May shook her head a little. “I’ll handle the testing.” May had an unfamiliar gadget in one gloved hand, and she pulled a small plastic rectangle out of her pocket. She used it to prick Dr. Kendall’s finger, and collect a small sample of her blood.

Clint leaned against the wall by the door. Agent Triplett did the same.

“This is for you.” Triplett held out a gun for him. Clint took it, checked it automatically, and holstered it. “Coupla spare mags, too.” Clint stuck those in his belt.

“Thanks. That’s new,” Clint said, indicating the gadget May was using. She had produced a biohazard bag from somewhere, and was dropping the used fingerstick thingies into it as she tested each person.

“Yeah, FitzSimmons came up with it a while ago. It’s limited to basic types of testing, but it’s really handy in the field.” Triplett grinned at him, even as he scanned the room. Clint had been doing the same; the constant state of high alert was starting to wear on him, and he was happy to let the other man take over for a while.

“I hope he or she won’t be too mad when it doesn’t come back.” Clint stomach rumbled, and Triplett passed him a power bar. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome. FitzSimmons are a heand a she, actually. They’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, though. Besides, it transmits data back to Simmons, so it won’t be a total loss. It’s really that bad?”

“You saw those people, what do you think? There’s no cure. It’s on the same level as reversing what they did to Captain America. Who knows if it’s even possible.” Clint opened the power bar and bit off a chunk.

“Maybe it can’t be cured. But maybe someone can develop a fix for it, so it doesn’t affect people like that.”

“That may be, but I’m not willing to take any chances,” Clint said through his mouthful of food. He tilted his head toward where Dr. Kendall was standing across the room. “I’ve got the doctor’s data. It’ll have to be enough.”

They both fell silent while Clint finished eating. He was just swallowing the last bite when May came over and tested his blood. He was clean.

“So why don’t the samples get contaminated in the machine?” Clint wondered.

“That’s not how it works, which is why I won’t be leaving it here,” May said pointedly as she tossed the biohazard bag into a nearby waste basket. “Only two are infected, the rest are clear. We’ll move them out in pairs; Triplett and I will be escorting them. You stay here and keep the rest from panicking.”

There were only five survivors-slash-prisoners to move out, and no reason to linger. May grabbed the two people closest to her, and indicated Triplett should go ahead of her. They left quickly but carefully, and came back after about five minutes. The lack of gunshots while they were gone was reassuring. The second foray wasn’t as lucky, though when they returned, Triplett reported that no one had been injured. They were preparing to take the final survivor when the administrator spoke up.

“That’s it? You’re just leaving us here?” The man grabbed May’s arm, but she shrugged him off easily.

“No,” May said. “We’re going to offer you the option of a quick death.”

The man turned crimson. “I demand to speak with the agent in charge. Now!”

May ignored him. “Let’s go. Barton?”

“I’ll handle it.” May and Triplett left with their charge. The administrator tried to follow them, but Clint blocked the door. The man paced the room, alternately swearing and yelling at Clint.

“Enough,” Dr. Kendall said wearily. “We’re aren’t leaving, so just…shut up, would you? We don’t deserve to get out of here, anyway.”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man snarled at her.

She took a syringe out of her lab coat pocket and uncapped it. “I’m surprised. We’re a long way from the days of the poison pill, but HYDRA still believes in death in the event of capture by enemy forces. I suppose that’s why you got stuck here. It wasn’t exactly a plum assignment, was it?” She stared at the needle in her hand, then looked back up at the administrator. “I’m taking the easy way out. You should do the same.”

Dr. Kendall jabbed the needle into her stomach and pushed the plunger, whimpering a little as she did. She stumbled back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting. Her eyes were closed, and she slumped to one side. Clint looked away; there was nothing he could do for her, and it felt like a violation to just watch. Her breaths came in harsh pants that soon turned to painful gasps, and eventually they stopped altogether.

“It won’t be that easy with me,” the man growled at Clint. His fists were clenched tight.

“So you don’t have a hypodermic handy?” Sometimes Clint wasn’t sure if his mouth was connected to his brain.

“I’m not going to let you just leave me here.”

“It’s that or…” Clint gestured at Dr. Kendall’s corpse.

“No!” With that, the man threw himself at Clint, trying to drive him into the wall. Clint dodged, elbowing the back of the man’s neck as he stumbled past. The man caught himself and swung around. He ran at Clint again, his arms wide. Clint kicked him in the chest, knocking him onto his back.

“If I…can’t leave…neither…can…you,” the man huffed. He got to his knees and dove at Clint’s legs, bringing him down. He scrambled on top of him and grabbed Clint’s arm. Clint punched him with his free hand and rolled away from him, springing to his feet with ease. The other man didn’t come up as quickly, and Clint grabbed him from behind, wrapping one arm around his neck and chest and driving his fist into the man’s lower back. He grunted and pulled at Clint’s arm ineffectually, trying to move it…up? When that didn’t work, he tried to tilt his head down, his mouth wide open. The fucker was trying to bite him! Clint grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. He let go of the man, and shoved him away. Before the man could turn around and rush him again, Clint pulled out his gun and shot him in the head.

**

 “…she _killed herself._ And then Agent Barton just shot the other guy in the head. They were fighting, and he just shot him. ” Skye sounded a little hysterical as she spoke to May. Phil couldn’t see her from where he was standing just outside the room, but he remembered the look of horror on her face as they had watched Barton’s struggle with the HYDRA agent, and its abrupt conclusion.

“He was infected. The other option was to let him die in the explosion. At least this way his death was quick,” May pointed out.

“There had to be another way.” Skye jumped up from the couch and started to pace.

“Maybe there was. But there was no time to find it.”

Skye just shook her head.

“Sometimes we have to make the hard call,” May said. “And then we have to live with it.”

“He seems to be living with it just fine. ‘Nuke it from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure.’ He must be really broken up if he’s quoting _Aliens_ , right?”

“We all have our ways of dealing,” May said, her voice suddenly hard.

“Skye. May,” Phil said in greeting as he walked into the room.

May nodded at him. “As soon as I get the all clear from Simmons, we can leave,” she said.

“Thank you.”

May gave Skye an enigmatic look, and went back to the cockpit.

“Hey, AC.” Skye flopped back down on the couch and threw an arm over her face.

“That was a hard thing to witness. I’m sorry you had to see it.” Phil sat next to her, ready to offer what comfort he could.

“Are you sure Agent Barton isn’t HYDRA?” Skye asked after a while. “It makes sense, I mean, you heard that doctor. Death is preferable to being captured. Maybe he was just…making sure the guy followed through.”

“I’m sure,” Phil said softly. He couldn’t pinpoint why he was so sure about Clint. He would have said the same of Garrett or Ward or Sitwell. Especially Sitwell. But Clint was different; Phil had no doubts about his loyalties.

Skye lowered her arm and looked at him solemnly. “I guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

“I guess so.” Phil reached over and squeezed her hand. “I have to go check on Barton. Will you be okay?”

“Eventually,” she answered.

Phil left her and went down to Medical, where Clint had sequestered himself while Simmons ran more in-depth blood tests on him and their HYDRA prisoners, who were locked in the interrogation room. They had put off detonating the charges Clint had set until they knew whether or not they had to leave anyone else behind. He met Simmons on the way.

“Oh, sir. I was coming to find you,” Simmons said. “I’ve just cleared Agent Barton and the prisoners. None of them are infected.”

“Thank you. How is Barton?” Phil asked, glancing at the door behind her.

Simmons looked concerned. “He seems…well. He’s sleeping. Trip – Agent Triplett offered to take care of the, ah,” she leaned in and said in a whisper, “explosion.”

“Thank you. Let May know we’re cleared for takeoff as soon as Trip returns. I’ll call in the airstrike once we’re safely away.”

Simmons nodded and smiled. She continued on her way before Phil had a chance to ask for an update on Fitz, but he assumed she would have told him if there was any news. He walked into the room where he knew Barton was not actually asleep. Sure enough, he was sitting up in the bed, staring down at his hands. He looked up when Phil entered.

“Hey. You look…not dead.” Clint’s tone was light, but his posture was stiff.

“Yeah. It’s a long story. Some of it is…” Phil trailed off, not sure what he was going to say. Hard to explain? Unbelievable?

“Classified? I’ll bet. You here to debrief me?”

“That can wait, actually. I just wanted to check on you.” Phil leaned against the counter next to the bed, unsure of what to do with his hands. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t be internally debating if clasping his hands in front of himself was too standoffish, or if folding his arms across his chest was too defensive. He stuck them in his pockets and waited for Clint’s response.

“I’m fine,” Clint said, right on cue. He was always ‘fine’ when he was in Medical. “Glad to be out of that HYDRA nest.”

“They must have kept you all pretty isolated there.” Clint obviously had no idea about SHIELD’s fall, and Phil wasn’t sure how to tell him.

“Yeah, they like to control the flow of information. I wasn’t even allowed to know the names of anyone above a certain rank.” He stopped and scrubbed his face with one hand. “I had to do it.”

“Do what?”

“I had to kill that man. I didn’t even know his name.”

“Barton…” What could Phil even say?

“There were other survivors; there had to be. But I didn’t try to find them so they could escape, too.”

“Clint-“

“And I have to ask myself if I really did everything I could to get the group out alive. Because they’re HYDRA, you know. I lost more than half of them.” Clint was staring at his hands again.

“Enough, Clint. You did the best you could. You helped the survivors you knew about; you could very easily have left them. None of them would have made it without you.” Phil stepped forward and put a hand on Clint’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure he would have done this before his death. He wasn’t who he used to be, not entirely; he could only be who he was now. Who he was now wanted to help Clint, any way that he could.

Phil moved closer and put his arms around Clint’s shoulders. Clint tensed, then leaned into the embrace. His arms came up and wrapped around Phil’s waist, and he pressed his face into Phil’s shoulder.

“I missed you, so fucking much,” he said, his voice muffled. “You were dead, and I…”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, his lips in Clint’s hair.

“I’m gonna be so mad at you later.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Phil had no idea what he was even saying anymore. Clint squeezed him tighter.

“Thanks for saving me, Phil.”

“You’re welcome.” A small noise by the door drew his attention. Skye was standing there, her face pink with embarrassment. She smiled.

“We’re about to take off,” she said, and left with a jaunty wave.

“Come with me,” Phil said. “We’ll get everyone squared away for the flight, and then I have a couple of long stories to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click Next Chapter for the completely gratuitous epilogue.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue is brought to you by the hashtag #ibelieveinSitwell

“So, HYDRA’s been part of SHIELD this whole time?” Clint asked. He and Phil were sitting in Phil’s office on the Bus; Phil at his desk, Clint on the bench sofa along the wall.

“Yes.”

Clint clenched his jaw and looked away. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he looked back at Phil. “If SHIELD’s gone, how did you call in that airstrike?”

“I still have a few connections. Someone owed me a favor.”

Clint nodded, and there was another bout of silence. “I guess Fury was right when he suspected we had a HYDRA mole.”

“More right than he knew.”

“It’s a good thing he kept this op off the books, then.”

“It made sense to do it that way, even if there had only been one mole.”

“So Fury’s not dead, and not director. Congratulations, by the way.”

Phil smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“And Garrett was HYDRA, and he’s dead. I never liked him, so I’ll believe that, no problem.”

“Is there something you do have a problem believing?” Phil looked down at his desk, and idly picked up a pen.

“Sitwell.”

Phil sat back in his chair. “I had trouble believing it, too,” he confessed.

“I saw him,” Clint said, frowning. “In the facility, a few weeks after I got there.”

“Sitwell?”

Clint nodded. “I figured he was read in on the op, but he didn’t contact me, and he never came back, as far as I know.”

“He obviously wasn’t there for you. That fits with him being a HYDRA operative, as much as we don’t want it to.”

“Sure, but why didn’t he blow my cover?” Clint jumped to his feet and started pacing the limits of the small office.

“Did he even know you were there?”

“Absolutely. I made sure of it; I thought he was there because of me.”

“Huh.”

“So why _didn’t_ he blow my cover?” Clint repeated.

“Maybe he thought you were HYDRA, too.”

“But he was pretty high up, wouldn’t he know all the HYDRA agents in SHIELD?”

“Clint, I want to believe as much as you do-“

“I think he was infiltrating HYDRA, like I did.”

“Or maybe he was planning to use you against Fury if he was ever discovered.”

“We both know how that would have ended.” Not that Fury didn’t care about Clint. Hard decisions; Fury made them.

“You’re right,” Phil conceded. “Maybe Jasper didn’t say anything because he wanted that particular plan to fail. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t HYDRA, just that he wasn’t completely dark side.”

“You’re not usually this depressing, Coulson. I was sent to find out what HYDRA was doing with the information on Project: Rebirth that they stole. It took some careful maneuvering to be assigned to that facility. I had to do a lot of digging to even discover that it was _maybe_ relevant to my investigation because that’s where they were sending certain materiel and equipment. There’s a lot of gossip going around HYDRA because they don’t tell anybody anything, and nobody was saying a word about it. This one was locked up tight; I doubt Sitwell even knew about it.”

“Okay, okay. But if Jasper was undercover, why didn’t he say something to Natasha when he had the chance? Why didn’t Nick say anything after he was killed?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t have any proof that he wasn’t HYDRA, and plenty that he was. You have to let this go.”

“No, I don’t. Unless you want to explain to me how _Sitwell_ ended up in a _Nazi_ organization?”

“I don’t know, Clint. Let’s say he wasn’t really HYDRA. What would proving that accomplish?”

“He was our friend; we trusted him. It will accomplish making me feel better, dammit.”

Phil dropped the pen he’d been fiddling with and rounded his desk to sit next to Clint. He sat there awkwardly for a moment, then he took a deep breath and put his arm around Clint.

Clint let himself lean into it. “What’s with all the hugging?” Not that he minded, not at all. He just wasn’t used to it; they didn’t do this kind of thing.

“I know. It’s really weird.” But Phil didn’t pull away, so Clint turned into the hug and covered Phil’s hand with his own.

“That’s ok. I like weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of continuing this, but I have no idea what direction to take. Brainstorming ideas are welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Click Next Chapter for the completely gratuitous epilogue.


End file.
